


A Day In Infamy

by hips_of_steel



Series: Darwin [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Hetalia, M/M, WW2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hips_of_steel/pseuds/hips_of_steel
Summary: As the war to end all wars ended, hope was high for peace.But another war has come, and after two years, the Allies are relying strongly on the aide of the ever neutral American across the ocean.Kyle's glad Alfred's chosen to stay out of it, and when England insists someone must try to get America to join, he volunteers. After all, he can do the bare minimum of formalities, and when Alfred refuses, he can then just spend some time with the man he loves before returning to the war.But events beyond his control are about to throw them both into yet another war, this one in the Pacific.And when a slumbering giant awakes, the world will be shaken to its core.





	A Day In Infamy

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, the next work in the series. The in-between story I had hoped to write fell apart and refused to come back together again, so we've picked back up with the day that will live in infamy. Pearl Harbor.
> 
> September 3rd marks the 78th anniversary of Australia declaring war on Nazi Germany, thus entering World War Two.

_November 21 th, 1941_

_Alfred,_

_The sun is shining here. It’s also hotter than hell, but I’ll cope. North Africa is like home to a certain extent, and I and the other diggers sure as hell cope with the heat a lot better than the pommy bastard and his men._

_He’s about to drive himself insane, you know. He appreciates what you’re doing for him with aide and money and such (not that he’ll say it to your face, of course), but he wants you to join us in the war. Personally, I’d keep telling him to fuck off if I were you. I’ve got enough issues keeping my own head down. Don’t need to worry about yours as well. I get why they ask for it. We really do need the help. But good God, if I can keep you out of this war, I will._

_Apparently, the pom’s decided it’d be best to keep me and Avery apart during this war. Can’t say I blame him after the last time, but it sure as hell pisses me off a fucking lot. I’ve been burning my ass off in the Sahara sand while Zea’s been flying planes with Scot and Norn, defending that jackass in his nice temperate climate. Wales is in India, trying to keep the crown jewel of the pommy’s empire from open revolt. And no one envies that task, I’ll tell you._

_Thank God that Kraut’s done bombing him for now, though. He’s not doing too well on his recovery from what I hear. Of course, a lot of what Uncle Scot writes gets censored by that pommy bastard, but hey, it’s better than nothing. But to be honest, I think the biggest sign of his injuries is that the last message I received from him had three misspellings. Three! That’s a record for the pom, I’d say, and one I’m sure he’s hoping to never break._

_Anyhow, I’ve also gotten the sense that I might be heading home soon. Arthur’s getting nervous about Kiku. And if he comes after either me or Avery, I’ve made it clear I’m heading back. I got my own home to defend. I won’t be messing around here if my civilians are at risk. And he understands. Sorta. Well, you know me. I told him it was non-negotiable (along with a few other things that I won’t repeat) and he finally stopped sputtering and agreed._

_I hope you’re doing alright. Letters are few and far between out here in the desert. Same with cigarettes and alcohol. God, what I’d pay for a cold beer, Yank… Let’s just say if you showed up with a beer and a pack of cigs right now, I’d be dragging you into my tent and show you my gratitude. I’d say more, but I expect the censors would throw an absolute fit if they learned about what I’d do to you. Not that they get to see these letters, after all, but I’ll pretend for the sake of my own dignity that I’m above writing that down._

_Funny thing though. During the last war I missed you like the sunshine and home. This one? I’m missing you like the rain that comes after a good long drove, that turns my homeland green and blue along with the red and yellow. I could do with a little less sun right now._

_Anyhow, Yank, write as soon as you can. I’ll do my best to respond as soon as possible, but you’ll forgive me if it takes a while. Not much post out here. I’m trying to see if I can convince Art to let me come visit. I’ve been bullshitting the excuse that I’m trying to raise sympathy for the war effort or something like that. I think he’s on the verge of letting me go. After all, perhaps I can be more persuasive and convincing than he can, given that we have been a couple for twenty four years now._

_Jesus Christ, it has been twenty four years now, hasn’t it? Wow. I must really like you, you stupid Yank._

_And don’t worry. I’ll just do the formalities bit. Than we can do as our hearts desire until I have to come back._

_Anyhow, I hope you and I can see each other again soon, Alfred. I miss you like I’m missing the rain and home._

_With love,_

_Kyle_

_PS. I just got the news as I was finishing writing this and about to put it into the envelope. The pommy bastard just gave me permission to come over there and see you. Should be arriving December 8 th. See you then, Alfred._

_And hey, maybe if you give me a pack of cigs and a cold beer, we can drive out to your house on the edge of DC and I can give you a good time…_

***

Alfred laughed as he reread the letter, as he had every day since it arrived.

_Two more days._

He’d had his house on the edge of DC prepared for a few days now, beer chilling in the fridge, and a couple cartons of cigarettes waiting for the Australian’s arrival. He wasn’t fond of the smokes when he wasn’t at war or under extreme stress. Most of the nations weren’t. He’d barely touched them in two years with the Depression having reached its end for the most part, but Kyle would need them like he needed air.

England, and to a lesser extent, all of Europe’s misery, was sending his economy upwards. He didn’t like seeing Arthur or anyone else in pain, but he had to admit, lately there had been a certain gain of strength that had come with it. He liked the whispers he heard sometimes at meetings with the other nations.

_“Look at how healthy America is now.”_

_“So strong…”_

_“So handsome!”_

He secretly preened after each of those words. Kyle knew it, teasing him about his vanity.

_“Got that trait from a certain Frenchman, I’d expect!” He’d taunt him after Alfred grinned just a little too much at those words._

_“Oh hush, you know I’m sexy.”_

_“Difference is I know you’re mine.” Kyle would say, taking his hand. “Means I also know when to let you take a compliment or when to tell you that your ego doesn’t another goddamn boost.”_

Alfred chuckled as he remembered those words, only spoken a few years ago, right as the war was starting to shape up.

The door opened to his small office in the White House, and he turned to see one of the President’s secretaries looking at him. He quickly tucked the letter into a desk drawer, locking it shut with his key. “Yes ma’am?”

“The President would like to see you, sir.”

Alfred nodded, checking his collar and jacket, and then following the woman to the Oval Office.

Franklin looked tired when he opened the door. After Alfred had closed the door and glanced around to make sure no one else was there, he spoke.

“Hello sir.” Alfred said, walking over and taking a seat across the desk. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I understand the personification of Australia is arriving in two days?”

“Yeah. Kyle’s coming. You don’t have to worry about him though, Mr. President. He’s not going to bother us too much about the war. He’ll do the bare minimum when it comes to formalities, just a polite request for us to join the Allies, and when we turn him down, he won’t bring it up again. He mainly just wanted to come and see me.”

Franklin chuckled slightly. “As he often does. I look forward to exchanging ‘formalities’ with Kyle, as unformal as he will surely make them.”

Alfred nodded, enjoying the smile on Franklin’s face. Sometimes Alfred wished Theodore had still been around by the time he and Kyle had begun really dating. He and Kyle would have gotten along well, and Teddy would have congratulated him on the catch he’d made. Franklin didn’t always seem as fond of the Aussie, but he sure preferred him to some of the other choices Alfred could make when it came to his personal life.

“Is that all you wished to discuss, sir?” Alfred asked, and regretted it when the frown returned.

“No.” He lifted a piece of paper from his desk. “Do you remember our conversation on October 9th?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, sir.” Alfred said. He could hardly remembered what he’d eaten yesterday.

“It involved atoms.”

Alfred felt himself stiffen slightly in his chair. “Ah. That one.”

The tension was obvious. Franklin offered Alfred the paper, so he could read it. Alfred took it.

“The Manhattan Engineering District.” He finally said, sighing. “An interesting title.”

“I’m sure that they’ll come up with a different name.” Franklin added.

“Maybe. It’s a big project we’re undertaking with this. Are we sure we want to spend the money? We just left the Depression behind.”

Franklin sighed. “I understand the worry, Alfred. This is going to cost us a small fortune. But we know where our sympathies lie. We may not be an Allied nation, but if Germany develops this bomb before us and uses it on Britain, we will lose significant investments, and then it will only be a matter of time before they decide to use it closer to home. Perhaps they would strike Canada first, but then we would be next.”

Alfred shudders at the thought of Matthew and Arthur, screaming as this bomb hits them. The burns it would inflict on Matthew worse than the Burning of York, a scar that still makes it hard for them to speak to each other sometimes. And Arthur… Arthur’s already struggling body would be unable to heal any longer, leaving him open to infections and pain…

And eventually Kyle falling to the same sort of affliction, crying out, Alfred watching him suffer as it burned his body, hearing the screams of pain…

If Germany hurt him… if he hurt any of them…

If Germany hurt Kyle, he would never be able to live with himself.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. The image of Kyle in such pain was too much. If anyone did anything like that to Kyle, he would destroy them.

And this bomb would be just the way to do it, if it was truly as powerful as they seemed to believe it would be.

Alfred set the paper back down, amazed he hadn’t accidentally crushed it in his hand. “Sign it. If we don’t use it in this war, we’ll surely be able to use it in another. Lord knows England will undoubtedly try and drag us into another one if he’s even still able to fight after this one.”

Franklin nodded. He picked up a pen and signed it with a flourish, and then glanced out the window. “They now have the authorization they need. Thank you, Alfred. You may leave.”

Alfred rose and turned to leave.

“Oh, Alfred, I was hoping you and I might discuss a few more things tomorrow afternoon, since I suspect you would rather have all your business done before Kyle arrives.”

Alfred turned. “What time would you like me, sir?”

“Oh, around 12:45.”

“I’ll be there.”

***

_December 7 th, 1941_

_ Operation AI in effect. All aircraft in position. _

_“Do we have your permission, sir?”_

_Honda Kiku looked at the plan. It had been months in the making._

_The moment was perfect._

_He nodded. “Execute Operation AI.”_

***

Alfred took Franklin’s arm, walking through the halls of the White House. They were headed towards the Oval Office, the friendly conversation putting them both at ease after yesterday.

Alfred didn’t mind when his President needed him to help him walk. This man had saved him so many times during the Depression, and given him hope again. He could carry him from Washington DC to Washington state if he asked, and never complain for a single second. Franklin had been there for him. He could be there for Franklin.

Suddenly he came to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway, a sensation of wrongness washing over him.

“Alfred?” Franklin asked, concerned.

“Sorry sir. Something seems off…” He felt himself stumble, and Franklin teetered on the edge of falling over. Luckily, a few aides were right behind them, and rushed forward, catching the President as he released Alfred’s arm.

“Alfred, are you alright?” He asked once he was steady again.

Alfred leaned against the wall, panting and unable to respond. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. He tried to pinpoint where he was feeling so affected, but every time he tried to reach out, he only became more confused and dazed.

And then there was a blinding pain, as if a speeding train had struck him.

He heard his own voice tear free from his throat, a demon screaming out in misery. There was shouting, and he was aware that someone was running forward, catching him before he hit the floor.

_Heat. Searing heat. Pain. Pain everywhere. Aching. Aching for something that he should know._

“Ha-Hawaii-” He felt himself say, eyes opening, but he could only see the indistinct shapes of humans, faces and clothes blurring through the pain and tears. “Hawaii-” He had no idea how he knew, but that ache could only be that small island territory.

Another burning blast of heat and pain, a loud cry torn from his body once again, and then blackness surrounded him, engulfing him completely.

***

Kyle stepped off the plane, storming towards the car that was waiting for him.

He was trying to keep his emotions from getting the better of him in this moment. He needed to stay calm until he had reached Alfred.

_Alfred. Oh God, please let him be alright-_

“Kyle Kirkland? My name is-” A young man began to speak, interrupting his thoughts, but Kyle cut him off.

“You’re taking me to the White House.” He commanded, walking towards the car the boy was obviously in charge of.

“Sir, I’ve been ordered to take you to Alfred F. Jones’s private residence-”

“Is he there right now?” Kyle snapped, letting his anger escape in little bubbles.

“No, but sir-”

“Then you’re taking me to the White House.”

“Sir!”

“Are you driving, or am I?!” Kyle snapped, throwing his bag into the backseat and glaring at the young man. “I’m going there whether you like it or not, boy.”

The young man seemed partially cowed, and Kyle reached out and snatched up his keys. “So where are we going?”

“The White House, sir.”

“Very good. You can drive.” He said, throwing the keys back at the man and getting in the car.

The young man started the car and pulled away, and Kyle tried to keep himself calm, occasionally looking up and checking to make sure that they were indeed headed towards the White House. When the news had arrived last night, he had cursed the Empire of Japan to the point that he no longer needed sleep with all the words of anger still pouring from his mouth. He had thanked God for the small mercy of allowing him to have already been on his way here.

The car stopped, and Kyle grabbed his bags and got out. Men were shouting at him, but he stormed into the White House, almost dropping his bags as soon as he set foot inside. Manners and politeness be damned, just like sleep.

“Where is Jones?” He half roared, hurrying down the hallway towards the wing where Alfred usually stayed. A few staffers didn’t recognize him, and tried to stop him, but a few older ones knew who he was immediately, and reassured the men that he was no threat to the President.

“He’s been asking for you.” One woman said, taking Kyle’s arm and pulling him along. “This way.”

Kyle allowed himself to relax partially as people let him pass, and he tried not to let his anger show any more than it already was. He must have looked a mess. Uniform hastily thrown on, hair a mess, face drawn, and eyes dark with exhaustion.

But then they reached the end of the hall, and before he could open the door to Alfred’s room, a familiar voice spoke.

“Thank you for coming, Kyle, but he doesn’t need to see you right now.”

The woman who had guided him here disappeared as Kyle turned towards the President of the United States of America.

“Excuse me?” He asked, voice dangerous and tired all in one.

“He’s trying to sleep.” Franklin said, stepping in front of the door. His son was there supporting his arm, but Kyle ignored him.

A growl was building in his chest. “Let me see him!” He snapped.

The President shook his head. “Alfred is healing. He needs rest. He doesn’t need you leaping on him and jumping about.”

Kyle half shouted the next sentence

“Goddammit, let me in Franklin! I’m not a child! Hell, I’m older than you’ll ever be!”

Roosevelt was about to refuse again when a weak voice rose from the other side of the door.

“Kyle?”

Kyle’s heart all but leapt from his chest at the sound of Alfred’s voice, weak and in such pain, and then he turned, growling.

“He wants me.” He shoved himself around the President of the United States, and then turned, eyes angry. “And Franklin, if you still have a problem… you can BITE ME!”

He opened the door and entered the room swiftly. An electric lamp had been left on in the corner, illuminating the dark room in a soft yellow glow. Alfred looked up from the bed, eyes weary, face bruised and cut, obviously still full of pain.

Kyle came right up to the bed, and his hands reached out and took Alfred’s immediately, and Alfred leaned into him, tired.

“It hurts…” He said tiredly. “It hurts so much, Ky.”

“I know, love. I know.”

The door opened wider behind him, and Alfred looked over his shoulder.

“Please don’t make him leave. Please.” Alfred asked, and there was silence.

The door quietly closed, and Kyle smiled slightly, pulling Alfred closer.

“I’ll be right here.” He whispered, pulling his legs up onto the bed and wrapping his arms around the American. “I’m not leaving.”

Alfred took a few deep breaths, face firmly pressed to the Australian’s chest. “I know.”

They lay there in silence, until Alfred’s breathing evened out and slowed down, and Kyle slowly laid him back down under the covers to sleep.

He knew the sentiments of his people.

_From the moment Japan hurt you, we have been at war with him, Alfred._

Then he rose, grabbing a chair and pulling it up to the bed. He would sit here until Alfred woke up.

When he awoke, they would face the future together.

***

Alfred sighed as he watched the vote. “You and Art have already declared war for me.”

“Did you expect the pommy bastard to wait for you to vote?” Kyle muttered.

“I expected you to.” Alfred said, sighing. “Oh well. It’s not like it isn’t going to go through.”

They sat for a few seconds, quiet.

“Germany and Italy will declare war on you soon enough, once they hear of this vote.” Kyle finally said.

Alfred hummed softly. “I’m aware.”

“And I’ll be returning home to ‘Straya. I can’t leave the homeland undefended.”

“Will Zea come back as well?”

“I expect Zea will stay in Europe. Arthur wants to keep them close and away from me, and I can offer the Kiwi some cover, to a certain extent. I’m probably a bigger threat to Kiku than them anyhow.”

Alfred nodded, quiet. Kyle reached over and took his hand.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay. We’ll win this war, just like the last one.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Kyle saw something dangerous glint in Alfred’s eyes as he said that, something powerful, something raw and unbreakable. It startled him, but then he remembered words Avery and he had spoken twenty four years ago, on a dock in France.

_“He won’t ever look like us. Did you feel the way the power radiated off of him?”_

_“The power?”_

_“Don’t you remember when we were little, and England seemed like the strongest person in the world?”_

_“Yeah? What about it?”_

_“Well, it’s because he was one of the strongest at the time. America’s got a similar feeling to him. He wasn’t born with that brute strength he has for nothing.”_

Back then, Avery had said they would be best to stick close to Alfred. And Kyle was beginning to see why.

There was going to be a day, not in the distant future, but soon, where Arthur was no longer going to dominate the world. And something told Kyle that Alfred would be wearing that discarded crown by the end of this war.

China had once, through a haze of opium, looked at this young British colony and spoken a similar sentiment about Alfred.

_“He will either fade away, as many demons do, or overthrow the king and take that mantle himself.”_

And at the Treaty of Versailles, when Arthur had finally discovered the affair between his two former colonies, he had spoken words of comfort, but in this moment, Kyle no longer found them comforting.

_“I know Alfred well enough to know he will never hurt you on purpose.”_

But this was not Alfred. No, this was someone else, wearing Alfred’s face, but the eyes said it all.

This was America.

The final votes were cast in Congress, and both turned to see the results.

The Congress of the United States had declared war on the Empire of Japan.

Alfred rose, still a little shaky, but his eyes were cold and angry. There was something in those eyes that Kyle had never seen this close before. He was unsure whether he should find it beautiful, dangerous, or both.

He settled on both.

“Let’s go to the house at the edge of DC.” Alfred finally said, the steel of his gaze fading from his eyes. “I think we deserve a few days there.”

Kyle knew they shouldn’t. The personification should stick close and help their leader after a declaration of war. But he knew those words wouldn’t reach Alfred in this moment.

So instead, he took his hand. His grip was firm and warm, as it had been when they first met face to face in 1908. “Alright, Yank. Lead the way.”

They walked out to the car, and drove to the outskirts of DC.

It was only going to be a few days, and now both would be at war, rather than only one.

But when Kyle opened a brand-new package of cigarettes, a gift Alfred had been planning to give him upon his arrival, the American lifted one out of the package, and struck a match.

They both lit their cigarettes, sitting on the porch and gazing over the city.

This was war.

And this time, they would be going through it together.

**Author's Note:**

> The next work has a planned publishing date of November 11th, the anniversary of the end of World War One.
> 
> This next work was the first work in this series that I started to write. It gave the series its name, and will cover the rest of World War Two. It may or may not be the last work in the series, depending on how solid my plans are for an epilogue fic.
> 
> See y'all then!


End file.
